"Kate, get out of here before I make you unrecognizable", said her dad.

Since her parents' divorce, Kate's dad got more and more aggressive and so whenever he'd get angry, she would be the object of his wrath. Today was no different from all the times he'd leave her lying half- dead on the floor of their living room, to the mercy of whoever would find her there. And when done, he'd raid the nearest tavern and usually return the following morning.

She had tried, on many occasions to tell her mother about what her dad did to her but she would always give dismissive chortles and wave it off which made her always feel alone and unwanted. She was a high performance student who had won various scholarships irregardless of this.

There was a day when she went home and found her father so drunk and agitated that he grabbed her by her hair and span her around with so much strength that she got slammed into a wall. She bit into her tongue involuntarily and it fell off just like that. Since that day, she found it hard to express herself. When home, she would always lock herself in her room and listen to rock music. Atleast if not for that she would have commited suicide a long time ago.

Music gave her the stength to carry on. It enabled her to perceive things in a positive light and it would momentarily keep her thoughts away from wondering towards her abusive father's action. She was even able to graduate from both high school and college.

Her satisfaction now lies in helping children from disadvantaged homes be the best that they can be and be a ray of hope to those giving up on life.

Just a week ago, I was in Greece with my sister, Cindy but she’s now gone.

Darkness has invaded me to the core. I try to breath but even the very air that keeps me alive seems to be choking me. I could never have imagined a life without her. But as life is full of cruelty, my most precious person couldn’t fight for her life. She was so selfish- just like our first pet dog- to have left this world.

I am now alone, with nothing but despair. But what can i do? What could she do? The bullet was faster than her afterall. And as the saying goes, “death is for the dead and life for the living”

I must live and celebrate her existence.